


Nebraska

by Morgan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-27
Updated: 2010-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-09 04:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgan/pseuds/Morgan





	Nebraska

"Innocent, my ass", Dean thought as he watched Sam hit on the guy behind the bar to get free drinks. Sam was resting one elbow on the counter, leaning in to get level with the shorter man and flashing a bright smile, slanting his eyes and tilting his head. Dean could see Sam's expression in the mirror and the guy's in real time and the guy was all a flutter. Sam knew what he was doing.

When had Sam gone from puppy-eyed young man straight off campus to this tall, calm and together Lothario Dean was watching as he put the moves on the bartender – male bartender, mind you – with complete ease and self-composure?

Sam didn't blush, or shake, or stammer or even raise an eyebrow when the guy behind the bar let his fingers linger over Sam's palm as he handed back imaginary change. And, most likely, his phone number.

Sam just smiled again. And, damn, it was a good, slow promising smile. Sam had skill. A solid thousand watt smile, enough to melt Dean's heart where he was sitting and he was at a safe distance. The guy behind the bar at ground zero didn't stand a chance.

Dean sat in the booth at the far left corner of the room and watched as Sam made his way back with a couple of beers. He weaved his way through the semi-drunk throng and nodded in that "thank you ma'm" way of his when a waitress sidestepped to let him pass.

She did a double-take, checking out Sam's ass as he moved on. She obviously approved of what she was seeing, standing there with her tray held high and her lips slightly parted.

What Dean was seeing was not his bumbling little brother with overlong arms and legs and a shy smile. He was looking at a confident young hunter in his prime. Calm, lethal and graceful. It was a little disconcerting how good that actually was to watch.

Sam sat down and pushed a beer across the table at Dean. He took a swig from his own bottle and scanned the room before shrugging out of his jacket and folding back his sleeves. Dean eyed him for a few seconds. Sam caught the look when he glanced back and his eyebrows knitted.

-What? Sam asked just loud enough to be heard over the music.  
-Did you just put the moves on the bartender?   
-Yeah. So?  
-The bartender. Who was male.   
-Yeah. And I repeat myself – so?  
-The male bartender who's phone number you have stuffed in you shirt pocket?   
-Do you have a problem with that?

"Hell, yes" was the first thing that popped into Dean's mind. Not that he minded the action, but he minded that Sam was so good at this all of a sudden.

-Do a little experimenting in college, Sammy?   
-Shut up and drink your beer.

Dean tried to see past the images he had of Sam as Sammy-the-runt and Sammy-the-gangly-teenager. He wanted to try and understand what had just happened. The last couple of years had clearly changed his brother's outlook on life. They had always been in it together, but Sam just held off a little from the hunter lifestyle. Never really embraced the life. Never really went anywhere without a fight.

Thinking on it now Dean realised they hadn't been fighting over any of the usual stuff for a long time. Sam didn't bitch about the credit cards anymore. Or the late night hustle. A couple of days earlier Sam had come home with a pocket full of bills and just shrugged when Dean asked where he got it, coolly stating he'd taken a car to a chop shop he knew about.

"What's up with you lately?" was what Dean wanted to ask. Instead he watched as a small, perky blonde zeroed in on Sam and Sam smiled back at her. Her knees must have shook because she looked away and blushed. Two seconds later she looked back, and yeah she was hooked, alright. Dean watched as Sam raised his bottle again and damn, if the girl didn't just blush a little deeper.

-Hey, Sam? Sammy?

Sam looked over at him. The gaze was nonchalant, the look you'd give a stranger who just happened to be sitting at the same table, and Dean would never admit it, but it made him a little … well, resentful. Coming here had been his idea, sure, they were at an impasse in their research, waiting for a call back with information they needed. He hadn't counted on Sam owning the room the minute they walked in while he sat in the shadows like some dressed down wallflower. That was just not the way things worked.

-What?   
-You feeling itchy, or something?   
-Just working the room. Like you taught me.

There it was. That calm delivery again, like this was nothing. Like getting the drinks for free and making girls pant was everyday routine stuff. "I'm pretty sure I never taught you that", Dean thought as the girl nudged her friend and pointed with her elbow to their table. The friend was a drop-dead gorgeous dirty blonde with leather pants and a halter top and they were obviously debating whether they should wait to be picked up or make their own luck.

-Hey, Sam?   
-What?

Now there was exasperation in his tone and Dean knew what that was like too. But only ever from the other end. Little brother cramping his style, getting his morals caught in the wake of the maelstrom of Dean's wants and needs. Never from Sam the underdog with shy eyes and a penchant for heading back to the room to do more research.

-Could you tone it down a little?   
-What? Why?

'Cause I'd like to get out of here in one piece and preferably without having to separate the cat fight you're about to cause", Dean thought.

-We're working a job. We don't really have time for … distractions.   
-That's a first.   
-Just finish your beer and let's get out of here, okay?

For the first time since they walked in Sam made real eye contact. His look was pretty blank, but full of that wicked intelligence at work and he let it linger on Dean's face for a few seconds and then smiled a slow smile that made Dean's neck itch. It was palpable and it made the little hairs stand on end which made him very aware of his own skin. Every inch of it.

"What are you up to?" is what he wanted to ask. But he just returned Sam's smile with his patented smirk and made short work of his beer.

The walk back to the motel was brisk. Sam set out like he hadn't a care in the world and the quiet was kind of hard to break. Sam seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts and didn't try any of his usual stuff. Dean couldn't help feeling like he had missed a step somewhere and lost the plot. They got back to their room and Sam closed the door carefully behind them, locking it and double checking the salt lines to make sure they could sleep undisturbed.

Sam took of his jacket and sneakers and flopped down on his bed, blatantly ignoring Dean who didn't know what the hell had gotten into his brother. Sam was closed off and detached. He had dragged his computer onto his lap and started going over the job again. Dean sank down on his own bed and turned on the TV. Charlie's Angels reruns. Normally Dean was all for braless action, but right now his heart just wasn't in it.

-Hey, Sam? he said during the first commercial.   
-Dude, what? And Sam's tone was more than a little irritated.   
-So, did you?  
-Did I what?   
-Experiment in college?

Sam snorted though his nose and just ignored the question.   
-'Cause, seriously, that bartender…  
-Give it a rest, Dean. I know how to handle myself.   
-That's just my point. You don't get that good at it without practise.

Sam looked up from his screen at Dean and for a second there was the vaguest shimmer of his Sam, his Sammy, in the sharp features.   
-I'm good at it? Sam asked in a careful, dispassionate voice.   
-You could have had anyone you wanted tonight. And I mean anyone.

Dean said and realised he meant it too. Sam could have had anyone. He had totally owned the room. The bartender, the girls, the waitress. Sam had been in control and he could have walked out with anyone he wanted.   
-Anyone, huh? Sam drawled.   
-Yeah.

Sam shuffled the computer off his knees and carefully set it down on the cover next to him. He stood up slowly and took the few steps over to Dean's bed. Standing there, all 6'4" of him looming over Dean's bed and looking down with dark eyes he gave off a quiet focus that was unsettling. Dean quickly went over the conversation they had just had in his head. Had he pissed his brother off enough that there would be a brawl? He didn't think so, but you could never be sure with Sam.

-I could have had anyone and I left with you, Sam said and his voice was oddly guarded.   
-I'm sorry about that, man, I just thought… Dean started but Sam held up a hand and sat down on the bed facing Dean.   
-I left with you, Sam said and this time he stressed the words a little differently and suddenly Dean's instincts were flaring.

"I just got kicked in the fight-or-flight reflex", Dean thought. "What the hell is going on?" Sam was still intent on holding his gaze but keeping very still.

-You know what I figured out a couple of weeks ago? Sam asked settling his hands on his lap.   
-No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me.   
-I'm never going to have another life than this.   
-Sam, I…

Sam held up a hand again for silence.

-Mom's gone. Dad's gone. Jess' gone. School's gone. This is it for me.   
-Sammy, I'm sorry...   
-I fine with it, because you're here.

Oh, great. This was going to be one of those awkward brother moments they sometimes had when either of them tried getting across how much they cared without turning into complete girls. Dean sighed and went to pat his brother sketchily on the leg. Sam just looked at him and then caught him of guard.

-It's getting darker every day, the way we live, isn't it? Sam said calmly. "I need you to understand you're not in this alone anymore. You look out for me, I look out for you".   
-Yeah, Sammy, same as always.   
-No, not same as always. That's the point. I don't want that. Same as always means you won't let me take care of you.   
-Sam, looking out for you is my job.

Sam held his gaze for a long moment and then something when from bad to worse behind his eyes and Dean could practically see the decision being made.

-Fine. You don't want to understand? I'll show you.

Sam grabbed his shoulders and shoved hard enough for Dean to fall backwards. Dean's hands came up on reflex to ward off the next blow and made contact with Sam's chest as he pressed forward.

Sam was using his weight and height to hold Dean down and grabbed his hands pushing them down and out to the sides. He was almost on top of Dean and making damned sure Dean wasn't going anywhere.

"Oh, great, now we have to fight", Dean thought and stared at Sam's face. Sam looked intent but not nearly as angry as he usually was in this kind of situation. There was heat coming off him, and focus, but very little anger. He stared at Dean, searching his face. Dean figured it would be quicker if he just let Sam think he had the upper hand until he got whatever the hell was bothering him out of his system.

Sam pressed down on him and held him still, breathing into his face and staring at his eyes. It was weird. It was weird because it didn't feel weird. And it was weird because … because it was. Sam's body was familiar. His scent was familiar. His eyes were the same as always. Nothing creepy about him, nothing demonic or possessed or freaky. Well, maybe a little freaky, but that was just Sammy.

Sam huffed in frustration and then leaned down and pressed his lips against Dean's. He didn't close his eyes and neither did Dean whose fight-or-flight response was kicked into overdrive. Dean could feel his heart hammering despite of the softness of the kiss. Sam still held on to him and moved a little further up to keep Dean in check. "He must feel my heart beating", Dean thought. "What the hell is going on here?"

-We're in Nebraska for fuck's sake, Dean said when Sam broke the kiss.

Sam sort of smiled, but kept close watch. He knew Dean well enough to know if he let himself get distracted even for a second he would be on his ass.

-What's that got to do with anything? Sam said softly.   
-We passed a Lutheran, Methodist and Baptist church on the way here.   
-I know, Sam said and this time he really leant into it, kissing Dean with more heat.

Dean wasn't warring with conflicting emotions or anything. Not at all. In this fucked-up life he'd been through enough to know that whatever Sam needed right now he wasn't in a position to deny it. "The hell is going on?" was foremost on his mind, but somewhere off in the distance a little voice kept saying "kiss him back, you idiot". So he did.

Sam felt Dean's lips soften and become more pliant so he upped the stakes a little, licking at Dean's bottom lip.

"Don't take it too far and you'll be fine", Dean told himself and almost believed it. But he had taken it too far already and he knew it.

"We're just kissing", Dean thought and almost burst out laughing. He would have laughed if he didn't have Sam's tongue in his mouth and … well. He could feel Sam. All of Sam. Sam in all his Sam-ness, so to speak. Sam was pretty much on top of him now and he was still holding on to Dean's wrists like he feared a whipping, but the lesson, or whatever the hell Sam had thought he was doing, had turned into a pretty intense kiss.

A very enjoyable kiss, if Dean said so himself. Which he couldn't because… well, Sam's tongue was in his mouth. And Sam was doing some sinful, artful, beautiful things with it.

And, hell, was that a moan? And did it come from him or Sam? Not a moan, not at all. Just breathing. Ahw, fuck…

For the next couple of seconds Dean's thoughts were all over the place, but then so were Sam's hands and somehow that was alright. It was better than alright. It was… It was just right.

Sam had let go of him so he could use his hands too. Skin under his fingernails. A sound that was way too deep and bloody to be coming from an innocent young man cut right through all the bullshit in his head, bypassed all the arcane laws and kicked him in the libido. Maelstrom was the word, in every possible sense.

When Sam's hands got under his shirt Dean's cognitive process kicked back in just enough to ask him "how far do you plan on taking this?" and the little voice way off in the distance was screaming "all the way" and jumping up and down, but the rational part of his mind was saying things like "this is still wrong" and "you'll never be able to come back from this". It was also saying "how the hell did Sam wind up on top?"

Dean drew back and watched as Sam's eyelids fluttered a few times, and then Sam opened his eyes, visibly struggling for control. His hands were back on Dean's wrists in a flash and he was watching Dean's face warily, scared and a little taken by surprise that it had been allowed to go this far. Sam clearly wanted more. Judging from Dean's breathing and the way his heart was kicking in his chest, Dean wanted more too.

Dean figured it was his job to put an end to this before it got so they could never look each other in the eye again. Awkward wouldn't even begin to cover it. What the hell do you say when your brother is basically pining you to the bed screaming with his every fibre to be rolled right? He managed an "ehrm". Sam's grip tightened on his wrists. For what seemed like an eternity they locked eyes. Sam made up his mind.

-You know what? Sam said with a surprising level of command in his voice. "You want to write this off as desperation or insanity, that's fine. But right now …"

This was where he stopped talking and just shifted so one knee rested between Dean's splayed legs and he let go of Dean's wrists cautiously. Sam lifted himself a little and rolled his hips just right and Dean's head ground into the pillow and there was a definite moaned response.

-Just… go with it, Sam finished and scooted one hand under Dean's shoulder blade.

The little voice in Dean's head said "Huh?" and "Oh, God, okay" and then it sort of stilled and stayed quiet for a few very long minutes. Sam had forgotten all about Dean's hands and was moving restlessly and kissing hard and then switching that to kissing restlessly and moving hard and it was good, really good.

But not so good that Dean forgot who he was. Though he was clearly getting there to judge from the heat and need starting to burn in his veins. He let one long caress end with both his hands landing on Sam's ass and just put a little pressure on the situation. Breaking the kiss to lick at Sam's neck he put his lips close to Sam's ear and breathed sending shiver's down Sam's neck.

-So, he managed. "I know you have this guy's phone number in your pocket because I can hear the crinkle of paper when I do this", and he arched into his brother.

Sam stopped breathing for a full second, because between the press of Dean's hands and the push of Dean's body he was trapped between a very nice rock and an unbelievably good hard place.

-You're going to take that piece of paper out of your pocket and burn it and scatter the ashes on the fucking road tomorrow, Dean said and now his voice was low and dangerous.

He steeled himself against the sensation of Sam moaning onto his skin and then hooked a leg around Sam's shin and rolled them fast, pinning Sam beneath him. He raised himself slightly on his arms and looked at Sam's face. Sweating, flushed and eyes wide. A little scared and wanting and damn that was a good look for him.

Dean stared hard at Sam until Sam finally realised there was something he should be doing right about then.

-Yeah, he said. "Yes, Dean. Whatever you want. Yes."

 

END


End file.
